A half dozen times, perhaps, I had raised my left hand carefully, only to have it flapped back at me as if I were slapping myself in the face. For we were in the pilot's seat of America's largest bombing plane, grandstand seats with nothing between us and the show but air, of which 15 there was a plenty.
Captain Roy N. Francis, one of the best-known American pilots, had cautioned me against sticking out my arm or hand, because of the nine-foot propeller whirling alongside of me, and its tips fanned my elbow just two thousand 20 times a minute as I huddled in the seat with Francis to afford him more room.
You understand I wanted to make myself as small as possible, so that he might have more space in which to operate the controls. I had every reason to believe they 25 required minute attention if we were to remain rebounding about the skies from wind pocket to wind pocket five thousand feet above the flying field. I had forgotten our objective, which was Manhattan--the dreams of fifteen years about to be realized.
I particularly wanted to be ricocheting from the crest 5 of one air wave to another. It was the choice of alternatives, I concluded, for below us the crazy-quilted landscape of Long Island appeared to be anything but a soft place for landing. And there was a barn directly under us for several minutes--the same barn. I know it was a 10 barn because it had a fence around it; otherwise it might have been a dog's kennel--a lone dog's kennel at that--so tiny was it from our viewpoint.
I know we hung suspended over it for some time. I had an opportunity to review my entire past life, my good 15 deeds, of which there were few that I could recall at the moment, and my misdeeds, of which there were many. I pondered if they would miss me at the office. I thought of other offices and other fellows and the nature of their retrospection, fellows who had been in positions similar 20 to mine--and I knew where they were, or rather, where they were not.
Francis had pointed at me among four other prospective passengers standing about the great plane while they tuned up the motors. 25
"You there, little fellow, get in here beside me!"
I had shinnied up the stepladder and crawled in beside him, flattered at the distinction--the others took their places in other cockpits free from controls and instruments--and then I understood the reason for his choice. 30